


Resolute

by MulderItsMe227



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, F/M, Holodecks/Holosuites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MulderItsMe227/pseuds/MulderItsMe227
Summary: Post-Resolutions, Chakotay finds Kathryn in a familiar holodeck program.  Tears and confessions ensue.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	Resolute

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing at all. This is my first post, and just something I’ve been toying with for a while. I have been so greatly inspired by the incredibly talented writers on this site! Love that the J/C fandom is still alive and well.

“Deck five,” Chakotay ordered as he stepped into the turbolift. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It’d been a long day. Hell, it’d been a long year.

A year. He would have almost marveled at how quickly the days and months had passed by had it not been the most excruciating and painful year of his existence. It had been a year since he and Kathryn had returned to Voyager from New Earth. A year since they had shared their parting declarations of love, their last embrace, and a final kiss.

Each day since they had returned to Voyager felt like an eternity. He felt vaguely aware of a continuous, dull ache inside his bones, as if he were waiting for something, but nothing ever materialized. The days continued forward, endless duty shift upon endless duty shift. Each second was a second further away from her, away from what they had shared together, and he felt the sting of it sharply, a physical pain, a phantom limb that continued to throb, cut from his body.

They had all the time in the world now, together on Voyager, but she had said no, referring only to “protocol,” and their enduring “friendship.” He had been left broken-hearted, dazed, and angry.  


The only solace he had found was in his boxing program on the holodeck. Only here was he free to yell, scream, punch, and kick away his anger, his frustration, his sadness. Only here, in front of a fictional coach, in a fake boxing ring, would he dare allow himself to cry, his tears mixing with sweat so he could perhaps convince himself that he wasn’t really crying, not over her. 

He slid out of the lift on deck five, crossed to the holodeck and started punching in his code. The computer voice chirped back, “Holodeck 2 is in use.”

Chakotay sighed and slammed his hand against the wall. It was an overreaction, yes, but he was frustrated, in need of his time alone and he had had this timeslot booked for a week.

“Who’s in holodeck 2?” he demanded.

The computer whirred. “Captain Kathryn Janeway.”

Chakotay paused. This was unusual. Kathryn had told him once that though she indulged from time from time, she disliked the holodeck. “It’s… hollow,” she said on New Earth, and he had smiled at the irony of her statement. Then he had pulled her toward him, like he did every single day, and whispered how real what they had between them was, and that he’d never let her go. And she had said the same back to him, staring intently at the way their hands interlocked, giving themselves over to the utter realness of their new relationship and physical connection.

And now, a year later, Chakotay wasn’t even sure if he was real anymore. 

But the pain was physical. The new way she looked at him, or looked through him, like he was transparent. Like if she stopped to consider him for even a moment, she’d break, and as captain, that was something she had to avoid at all costs.

What was she doing in the holodeck? He wondered. “Computer, override lock.” His command code worked; the timeslot was his after all.

The doors to the holodeck slid open, and he stepped cautiously inside, glancing around. The doors hissed shut behind him.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized what the program was.

New Earth.

Kathryn must have programmed it exactly as she had remembered it, and she had done an excellent job at that. The sound of distant birds singing from the tops of the willow trees. The faint smell of honeysuckle in the air. The distant lapping of the river that had been only a few meters from their shelter.

He took another step into the clearing. The sun shone down brightly and for a moment he let himself bask in the warmth. The program was incredible – she must have memorized and programmed every detail, from the way the cool breeze cut through the midday warmth, to the slight humidity that hinted at the possibility of an afternoon plasma storm. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a deep, transformative breath.

He opened his eyes. Their shelter was there, exactly the way he had remembered it, steel grays and beams perched on the top of sprawling, grassy hill. Just outside the front entryway was Kathryn’s garden, her Talaxian tomatoes now red and fat on the vines. Beyond the garden, the grass sloped downward to the river.

He knew he should turn around and leave – this was her private program after all. But curiosity and sentimentalism got the best of him, and he took a few tentative steps down the slope.

There she was.

She was sitting on a rock overlooking the river, hair pulled back into a messy braid, that damn blue dress that made him come apart the first time she had worn it for him. She had her legs pulled tight to her body, gazing out over the water. 

He took another tentative step. He could see her pale face was streaked with tears looked so forlorn that his heart almost shattered in his chest.  


He wanted to turn and run. This was, after all, her space, her program, not meant for anyone – especially him – to observe. But he was here now, and part of this, and all of the other reasons and excuses he had ever found seemed to make no sense here and now.

“Kathryn,” he murmured. 

She froze. He knew she could recognize his voice, and he watched as she steeled herself before slowly turning her head to face him.

“Commander,” she said, ice in her voice, her teary eyes narrowing just a bit, “this is a private program.”

He took another step toward her, softly and slowly, as if she were a feral cat he was trying not to scare away. He held his hands up. “I’m sorry. You’ve gone over the time.”

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes, doing her best to compose herself. “I’m sorry. I must have lost track of time. I’m leaving now.” She stood up, smoothing out her skirt. Chakotay lightly touched her arm.

“This is extraordinary, Kathryn. You’ve gotten it exactly right, down to the smell of the honeysuckle in the air.”

She waved her hands dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just a place… a place I like to come. To be alone.”

He observed her, curiously. This was the really the closest proximity they had been to each other physically in months.

Kathryn was beautiful, devastatingly so, the same way he remembered her on New Earth. But on New Earth, her cheeks were rosy from her time in the sun, her face a bit fuller, her eyes brighter. He could tell that she wasn’t eating or sleeping the way she did when she was with him on New Earth – really with him. Not two individuals who happened to exist in the same space, as he felt they were now.  


He tried to select his next words carefully, aware that she was on the brink of bolting for the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your time, Kathryn. I understand.”

He could see her soften just a bit. Of course he understood. He was literally the only person in the entire universe who could understand how she was feeling. Fresh tears sprung into her eyes, and he could see her resolve starting to fall. “Oh, Chakotay,” she murmured, taking a step toward him.

He caught her gracefully and pulled her against him, allowing her to sob against his chest. 

The burden she must feel, he thought, as he turned the anger that had been directed at for so long onto himself. Angry for not being there to shoulder her pain when he had promised her exactly that on New Earth. Angry at himself for allowing her to run when it had always been his job as her first officer to keep her grounded. Angry that he had let the best thing that had ever happened to him slip away – out of what? Fear? Shame? 

It all seemed suddenly so clear to him. This was never just about her pushing him away – this was always their battle, meant to be fought together. “I’m so very sorry, Kathryn,” he whispered, his mouth buried in her hair. 

She sniffed and looked up at him. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who pushed you away.”

“I know why you did,” he said simply. “And once again, you were right to do it.”

“It doesn’t mean it didn’t –” she stopped, correcting herself, “that it doesn’t still hurt,” she finished, softly.

Chakotay leaned back a bit, holding her shoulders, searching her eyes. “I’m the one that should be sorry. For not supporting you, the way I promised, not only on New Earth, but as your first officer. I swore my loyalty to you, Kathryn.”

Chakotay braced himself for her speech: the one about protocol and necessity, words made of Starfleet-issued steel gray. But he saw her soften, and the tears in her eyes spill down across her pale cheeks, and he knew that this was never just about his feelings. 

He brushed a stray tear from her cheek, his eyes locked on hers. He pulled her toward him, taking her head into his hands, and leaned down, kissing her for the first time since New Earth.  


It was just was as he remembered, her lips soft and impossibly warm, her arms skating across his chest and his back. He kissed her harder, hungrier, as memories of their time together came flooding back into his mind, his body becoming keenly aware of the beautiful woman pressed against him. She kissed him back, her hands in his hair, pulling on the back of his head to bring him even tighter against her.

“I love you, Kathryn Janeway,” he said.

“I know.” 

He smiled against her mouth. This wasn’t Kathryn being snarky - rather, she was acknowledging that she understood what existed between them. He didn’t need to reassure her of his love. This woman knew him better than anyone else in the universe. 

She pulled him tighter. “I tried to fight it,” she whispered. “I can’t anymore.” Her eyes met his. “I am so in love with you.”

Any last lingers of doubt vanished from Chakotay’s mind as he sank down into the grass beside the rocks, pulling her down with him. His mouth searched hers more frantically now, a hunger that neither of them had felt since New Earth overcoming them both.

His hands traveled across her body, his mouth finding her neck, her shoulder, the curve of collarbone. He slipped the strap of her blue dress down her arm, his heart racing. This wasn’t their first time venturing into the realm of a physical relationship. But somehow now, knowing that they weren’t alone on New Earth, that they were aboard Voyager, facing a lifetime of a journey home, there was more meaning in the act.

They may have been on the holodeck but there was nothing hollow about this. 

He grabbed her hips tightly, as if ensuring she was real. Her hands found the zip on his pants as she gently pulled them down. Since New Earth, he had scarcely let his imagination run this far. He slid her hands up her dress, swiftly removing her panties and letting her settle in on top of him.

“Are you sure?” he asked her. “Because if we do this…”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Chakotay…I’m ready for this. I mean that.”

He knew she was serious, as Kathryn never did anything halfway. If he gave himself to her now, he was making a promise, and she would require his steadfast and unwavering commitment. 

It wasn’t even a question in his mind as he entered her, slowly at first, and then with increasing passion. Their bodies moved together in harmony, two individuals coming together to make something even greater than what each of them could be alone. 

This woman was his world, his galaxy, his universe and he saw in her eyes that she felt the same. They might never be able to recreate what they had – but they would find a move to forward, together.


End file.
